


Seeing With Your Hands

by OrmondSacker



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Emotions, Fluff, Intimacy, Kissing, M/M, Massage, Pre-Rogue One
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9589079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: When Baze and Chirrut are trapped in the home on a cold, stormy night without any source of light, Baze gets the idea that he wants to 'see' Chirrut the way Chirrut sees him.





	

The room is rapidly getting darker. Baze is fiddling with the lamp in an attempt to get the damn thing to work again, so that they will have light in the small room he shares with Chirrut. Or that he will, Chirrut of course doesn't need it. So far he hasn't had much luck. 

The sun has almost set and the street of NiJedha does not give off much light these days, not with the Imperial occupational forces having induced a curfew. Not that the curfew usually stops him and Chirrut from going out if they want to. Or maybe he should say if Chirrut wants to, it's usually him who flaunts the law, such as the law is in this place these days and his insomnia makes him restless at night. He would go alone, Baze knows that, but even before the Imperial occupation Baze never let Chirrut roam alone in his nightly wandering. 

No, it's not the laws that is keeping them inside tonight, it's the icy wind coming in from the desert and the possibility of a sandstorm that it brings with it. They are both wise enough not to be caught outside in this. 

Baze hears the distant echo of the booted feet of Stormtrooper patrolling the darkened streets and he smiles grimly in the growing dusk. With a bit of luck the bastards will be caught outside when the storm hits. He knows no one in the city will offer them shelter if they are and being outside in one of these icy sandstorms is almost certain death. 

"Leave it," he hears Chirrut call from the bed where he's curled up beneath the covers. The room isn't cold, at least their heater is working, but his husband had said he wanted an early night. 

"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" 

"How can I sleep in the infernal racket you're making?" 

"With this?" Baze indicates the lamp. 

"Yes. Baze if you haven't got it working by now I doubt you will before it is too dark for you to see." 

"Hmm, it is already too dark for me to see." 

Chirrut makes a sound that carries the implications of 'well then?'. 

"I just don't like the idea of spending the entire night in the dark." 

"Like I usually do?" 

The cheerful note in Chirrut's voice fills Baze with equal parts mirth and annoyance, as it always does. 

"Well, we're not both used to stumbling about in the dark." 

"Are you saying a stumble?" Now Chirrut's voice holds mock offence and Baze's annoyance melts away. 

"Yes," he grumbles, knowing the rules of this game and already enjoying it. 

All that gets him is a 'hmf' which makes him frown, that is not how this game goes. He puts down the lamp, makes his way in the dark across the familiar room to the bed and sits on the edge. 

"What's wrong?" 

He can barely make out Chirrut's form in the dimness, but he hears him shift about. 

"I'm feeling restless. I can't sleep." 

"I assume that this is one of those nights we'd be chasing about the streets if not for the incoming storm?" 

" _I_ would." 

"And you know I would be right at your heels, so that would be a yes then." 

There is no answer except a sigh. 

Baze scratches his beard. A restless Chirrut is always difficult to deal with – his husband gets these bouts now and again, a mix of insomnia and general restlessness, and they both know them well – but the possibility of distractions tonight are few. Had they had light Baze could have read to him, but that isn't possible right now. 

Occasionally he will pick an argument with Chirrut, work of his restlessness with verbal sparring. Or a physical one. But there isn't room here for a physical match and Chirrut doesn't sound like he'd enjoy a verbal ditto, with the mood he's in it would only degenerate into a hurtful fight. 

A sudden thought strikes Baze. 

"Shift over," he says and after a moment's hesitance he hears Chirrut comply. 

Baze quickly strips of his boots, shirt and belt, leaving him only with his pants on, before sliding under the covers to join Chirrut. 

"What are you doing," the other man asks. 

"Well, you said you wanted an early night and I thought I'd join you." 

"Baze?" His husband's voice sounds almost adorably puzzled. 

"There's something I'd like to try. If you'll let me?" 

"What?" The note of curiosity in Chirrut's voice, cheers Baze. Maybe this is going to work. 

"I want to see you, the way you see me. Will you let me?" 

Chirrut is always tactile when they're alone, running a hand across Baze's shoulder, arm, back, any part of his body and when they're in bed together he always spends ample time exploring with hands, running them across every centimeter of available skin. It isn't Chirrut exploring him in a sexual way, though as often as not sex does become part of it, but that this is the way Chirrut sees and that he is paying explicit attention to every part of Baze's body always serves to make him feel both humble and honored. 

It has also often made him wonder exactly what it is that Chirrut sees with his hands. 

"You want to take advantage of the fact that for once you are as equally in the dark as I?" 

The cheery note is back in Chirrut's voice and he's joking. That's good. 

"Might as well. I'm curious." 

"Go ahead then, not like either of us is going anywhere tonight." 

Having got his permission Baze suddenly feels hesitant and awkward. It had just been a casual thought and now he isn't sure where to start. Tentatively he reaches out and puts a hand on Chirrut's shoulder. 

"You know you're normally naked when I do this?" Chirrut says. 

Baze feels heat shoot up into his face. Trust Chirrut to say something like that in a moment like this. 

"And you usually take your time too and I never rush you." 

"Do you think I take too long? You've never complained about it." 

"And I'm not complaining now either. Just let me take my time too, I want to get to know you this way." 

Chirrut falls silent. 

For a while Baze lets his hands travel over Chirrut' shoulders, chest and arms on top of his shirt, feeling the firm muscles underneath the thin fabric, before he slowly untugs it and pulls it over Chirrut's head.  

A small sigh escape from Chirrut when Baze finally touches the revealed skin. 

Baze continues to explore his husband's skin in the dark. The fact that he can't see a damn thing in the murk makes the experience far more intense, it is like he can feel every line and imperfection, the fiber of every muscle with his fingertips. 

He runs his hands across Chirrut's chest again, exploring the firm hard muscle beneath his palms. The tips of his fingers touches the long wide scar that runs across the left pectoral, the legacy of a thug with a knife that was better than expected, leaving the testament that Chirrut is neither invulnerable nor immortal. 

Baze's hand lingers there, sliding over the scar again and again, as he remembers that day and the fear he felt, until Chirrut takes his hand in his and kisses the knuckles. 

When he lets go, Baze leans in and kiss him on the lips. 

Chirrut makes a pleased sound at that. 

Baze lets his hands drift lower, down the flat abdomen skimming the sides of solid waist, before undoing Chirrut's pants and pulling them off leaving him fully naked. 

With the pants out of the way Baze slowly runs his hands down Chirrut's left leg, one hand on the outside and the other on the inside so that they together fully encircles it. He already knows the smooth softness of the inside of Chirrut's thigh, but the strangely wrinkled skin around the knee is a new feeling, as is the slightly dry, callused skin at the heels.  

When done with the left leg, Baze repeats the process with the right one. 

It is an odd experience. He has touched his husband's body regularly in the decades they have been together, it should hardly be new to him and yet it is. Feeling Chirrut under his hands without being able to see him makes everything his sense of touch tells him stand out with a startling clarity. And there is an intimacy to the act that has nothing to do with sex. 

"Turn over," he says as he reaches Chirrut's toes. 

Baze can hear that Chirrut's breath has become a little erratic, something that increases as he starts running his hands up the back of Chirrut's right leg. 

It makes him smile. That Chirrut, who is always completely in control of his body and surroundings, have lost even small amount of it by being touched by Baze like this fills Baze with a strange sense of both pride and protectiveness. 

And turnabout is fair play after all, it's not like Chirrut haven't made him lose control more than once. Not that Baze ever has objected to that. 

"How does it feel?" he asks as he continues his exploration. 

"Like, like you are touching more than my skin." Chirrut's voice is slightly muffled from his face being pressed halfway into the pillow and it holds a tiny tremor as he speaks. 

Baze's smile widens. 

"Does it feel like that to you to when I... touch you like this?" The unaccustomed hesitance in Chirrut's voice sends a pang of tenderness through Baze's heart. 

His hands now rests on the small of Chirrut's back and he leans forward so he hovers fully over Chirrut's prostate form. 

"Yes, it does," he says as he slides his hands over the smooth skin of Chirrut's back, feeling the muscle shift beneath, until they come to a brief rest on the shoulders. 

Chirrut is lying with his arms folded, propping his head up on them. The muscles quiver under Baze's hands as he caress the skin and he hears a hitch in Chirrut's breathing. 

He knows what Chirrut feels like right now. Every nerve ending in his skin on fire, pleading for more attention, yet almost too sensitive to bear it. 

"Don't stop. Please," Chirrut pleads. 

Chirrut never begs. Ever. Neither pain nor hardship have ever made him do that, but now he is. 

"Shhh." Baze ghosts a kiss across the skin on Chirrut's right shoulder, before pulling back.  

"Sit up," he continues. 

He hears Chirrut push up, reaches out and puts one hand on his back again between the shoulder blades. He doesn't want to move too fast, it could easily overwhelm Chirrut. Though Baze knows how intensely it feels for him when Chirrut does this, it must be even more so stripped of sight as Chirrut is. 

He slides his hand forward, around Chirrut's chest, letting it rest flat against the midriff. Chirrut is still trembling but not badly. 

"How can you stand this?" Chirrut asks. "It is so-" 

"Am I hurting you?" Perhaps it was too much for Chirrut to be touched this way when he couldn't see? 

"No. It's... not enough. How can you be so calm when I do this?" 

Encouraged by Chirrut's words Baze puts his other hand on Chirrut's shoulder and lets his fingers gently massage it. 

"You get used to it after a while." 

Chirrut laughs and Baze thinks he hears a hint of hysteria in it. 

"How can you get used to this? I don't think I ever could." 

Baze shifts forward so his chest is only an inch from Chirrut's back and he hears the other man sigh, a sound filled with equal parts longing and frustration. 

"Give it a few tries, you'll see. It's not that it's less intense, it's just... easier to handle." 

 "Could we? Do this again?" 

"Of course. If you want." 

"I do. I makes me feel-" Chirrut breaks off, searching for words. 

"I know," Baze says. "I know." And finally he closes the last gap between them, pulling Chirrut flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around his chest. 

Chirrut sighs again, this timed it is filled with relief and contentment. 

"Better?" 

"Mmmm." 

Baze bends his head and places a kiss on where Chirrut's shoulder meets his neck. One arm steadily cradles Chirrut against his chest, while the other hand roams free over his torso. 

"Now I know why you're always so cuddly when we do this." 

Baze chuckles and kisses his jaw. 

"Sleepy?" he asks. 

"A little?" Then a note of suspicion creeps into Chirrut's voice. "Did you do this just to get me to sleep?" 

"No, not just. Though I thought it might relax you I did want to know what you 'looked' like, like this. I wanted to know what you feel when you run your hands over my body in this way." 

"And what did you feel?" 

"I'm not sure I can put this into words anymore that you just could, but it felt like... you were mine. Fully." 

Chirrut twists in his arms, so that they are chest to chest and puts his arms around Baze's shoulders. 

"I _am_ yours. Always." 

"I know." 

Gently Baze pushes Chirrut down so that he ends up lying on his side on the bed, Baze beside him still holding him. 

"Mmm, do you intend to put me to sleep?" Chirrut asks. 

"I was thinking that this made for a more comfortable position for cuddling," Baze answers mildly. All he wants right now is to continue to hold Chirrut, feel him in his arms, a wish Chirrut seems only happy to comply with. 

They lie in silence for a while, hands tenderly caressing each other's skin. It is Chirrut who finally breaks it. 

"I'm glad the lamp broke tonight." 

"So am I." 

After this there is silence once more that after a while is punctuated by the soft snores of two men. When the storm finally hits Jedha, neither Baze nor Chirrut are disturbed by the howling winds. 

**Author's Note:**

> When I edited this I realized that I by chance may have made a reference to [Healing Process](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9147805) in Chirrut's scar. It wasn't conscious but we can all pretend that it was 100% intentional linking of the fics XD.


End file.
